Faded Obsidian
by saturn de wicked
Summary: Schuldich loses his memories and can only remember up to his early teenage years. Crawford has to teach him everything all over again, but this time, Schuldich may teach him love in return. Hopefully in character for Schwarz. Inspired by the great work Te
1. More often than not, peace goes looking ...

Faded Obsidian

Faded Obsidian

By saturn de wicked

Chapter One

**More often than not, peace goes looking for trouble**

The building overlooked the streets of Tokyo. Tall, like the rest, but taller than most. The glass wall spanning from the ceiling to the floor provided an unobstructed view of the streets. He rested his palm on the cold glass, the chill tingling his fingers. He looked upon the 'normal' with something that was envy and yet not quite. So many times had he stood above the world that lived a life he had given up, and so many times more would he continue to do the same, watching what he would never have.

He ran his fingers down the smooth glass. Caged, but soon to be free.

The blinds snapped shut.

Schuldich closed his eyes, clearing his thoughts. It was not Schuldich who looked through the glass, it was not Schuldich who wanted to be part of normal. Schuldich did not do that. So he pushed the familiar yet alien longing out of his mind and turned smoothly, the trademark smile turned on full power.

The door opened.

"Schuldich," Nagi greeted quietly.

"Unavailable at the moment."

"Schuldich," he repeated, adding mild edge to his voice.

"You could have knocked and asked politely whether you could enter," Schuldich informed him, snubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray. "You've not been paying attention to your etiquette classes."

Nagi gave a soft sigh of exasperation. "It's not like you ever did."

"Ahh… but I'm not the one who's going to take after our," he made a rude gesture to his left, "great leader."

Nagi narrowed his eyes. "And what gave you the idea that I was going to?"

Schuldich's smirk widened. "You mean who."

Nagi glared at Schuldich, who met his gaze with a full smile and amused eyes. Then he let his eyes close and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "You have to get a brain, Schuldich."

"You have to get a will, pretty boy," Schuldich countered, boredom catching up on him.

He could practically see the young man's jaws tightened. But Nagi was Nagi. His face closed up into the usual expressionless front he put up. Schuldich sniggered to himself privately.

"Crawford is ready."

Schuldich tossed the crushed filter away and dropped his smirk. A thoughtful look slowly passed over his face. "How long since the Century was destroyed?" he asked.

"Thirty-six days," was the unhesitating response.

Schuldich nodded absently. ~Thirty-six days on a leash. This will be the end.~

~We believed 'the end' to be exactly thirty-six days ago too... We underestimated Estet… didn't we?~

Schuldich snorted. ~Those old fools… how capable can their dogs be? We waited so long so that we could do a clean job of wiping them out, and only for that reason.~

Nagi was silent.

~These nitwits are stupid enough to think that they can monitor our every movement with cameras, and trust our intelligence to be so low that we won't notice,~ Schuldich scoffed. ~You're better off worrying for your stunted growth.~

"Get some rest," Nagi cut the topic off, speaking out loud. "You will be doing most of the work today. We'll set off at 2330 sharp." ~Tonight the last of Estet will die.~

The door closed, and Schuldich was left to himself. He fell into the soft white leather couch, sighing in exasperation. He wanted more freedom than the space within four walls. Sick, so sick of being Estet's lapdog. So sick of having to pretend in front of them, even though he was taking amusement in doing so. The fun had dried up long ago.

Their last few days in the hotel room had been a trial of their acting skills. No one seemed to having any problems with that besides Schuldich. He was soooo fighting the urge to scramble the brains of the guards watching them. Twitching, even. The mission Nagi was speaking to him about just the moment ago had been the first assignment to Schwarz since the fall of the original leaders. Or the guards probably thought so anyway.

His eyes lazily moved to the clock. There was still a boring half an hour to go. He badly wanted _out_, but was under Crawford's orders not to leave at all. And of course, the all-knowing clairvoyant was not to be disobeyed.

Since when have you started giving a shit to Crawford's wishes anyway? Schuldich smirked to himself, feeling stupid. Following Crawford's orders had become something he accepted as his duty lately. He remembered when Schwarz had started out with only them two, he had given Crawford practically hell. There was so much to do, and so much Schuldich would not oblige to doing. He had been fifteen when he first joined Schwarz, the same age as Nagi now, but much more painful to manage. Oh no, he was not a good computer nerd.

He would have the clairvoyant placing men at all exits when it neared a mission, in case he missed a vision of Schuldich trying to escape out. Schuldich smiled a little at the memory. The etiquette teacher he had was sent to the hospital on the third day of his job, and a few more followed because Crawford had been insistent on 'proper behavior' on formal gatherings. But in the end, it was Crawford himself who took time to train him into who he was.

He had been by the clairvoyant's side for eight years already… eight long years…

Schuldich closed his eyes.

---

Crawford sat quietly at his desk, looking hard at the ticking clock on the wall of the suite's study. They, meaning Schwarz, were currently residing in the suite at the top level of the detached headquarters of Estet, the special rooms that were exclusively reserved for their use. The whole suite took the space of the entire level of the office building, furnished as expensively as Schwarz was worth. There was even a special built in for Farfarello, since Estet's impression of the madman from the first meeting had never once changed.

One bloody teenager with blood running down his body like perspiration, offal of a dead guard in the mouth that smiled and whispered silent prayers. One rabid animal that dug out its eye with bare hands, and laughed as he crushed it.

Crawford remembered, all right. It had been barely three years. Nagi had not been with them when they caught the madman on the streets, so the young boy had not the picture of blood engraved in his mind. Even Schuldich had moved on with no smart comment.

Schuldich…

Over the years, the redhead had become almost his friend. He had not expected the partnership to last when Estet first shoved the smirking rebel to him. Schuldich had nearly gotten them killed not only once, that was for sure. Only Crawford's pre-cog abilities had saved them time and time again from death, where they belonged.

The path had not been smooth, but his patience and hard work on the German paid off beautifully. The end result proved to be much more than satisfactory – Crawford would never consider himself as dependant, but he harbored the fear at the back of mind that he had long taken Schuldich's presence and telepathy for granted. It's going to be my demise one day…

More often than not, Crawford himself felt like finishing off the German. Estet's determination to bring in Nagi had almost killed the said redhead – Crawford had been left to his own devices with an unbalanced telekinetic child when Schuldich sneaked off without his knowing, having left with the **utmost confidence** that Crawford would manage fine without him. That night, a bleeding clairvoyant had him at gunpoint, and nearly fired out of rage.

~Maybe I should do that again? It had been fun to see you losing your cool,~ Schuldich taunted suddenly, following Crawford's thoughts.

Crawford shifted his position to get more comfortable. ~You can always try. You liked the circuit, didn't you?~

It was the redhead's punishment. Crawford had run electricity through him until he screamed. It was one day that the telepath tried so hard to forget.

~Talk about sadistic…~ Schuldich sighed again, drawing out.

Crawford could feel the subtle impatience in his voice. Schuldich was anticipating, and so was he. They had waited long enough for this day to come. Their leader's eyes hardened.

The black was going to break away from the shadows soon, and unlike the shadows, the black could survive in light.

A knock sounded on the heavy oak doors. It opened quietly, and Nagi stepped in, closing the door the way only he could. "I have delivered the message. He's smoking in the lounge," Nagi said flatly. Crawford already knew; it was a small service for the guards watching them through the cameras.

"Farfarello?" Crawford asked calmly, still watching the clock past Nagi's head, eyes having not once left throughout his conversation with Schuldich.

"I gave him his weapon before I went to Schuldich. He should be playing with it." ~Are we going to destroy the cameras or kill the guards watching?~

Crawford nodded in acknowledgement. ~The guards. Schuldich's work.~ "And you, Nagi?"

"I follow you," Nagi replied evenly. "I always have, Crawford."

---

Schuldich smirked again, listening in to the conversation. He wondered when Schwarz the unfeeling assassination group had started to actually share bonds with one another. Just a few years ago they could stab each other in the night and spit on the corpse.

But sometime, sometime in days they had been together and fought for themselves, a mutual objective had been formed, and it was perhaps that that made the _team _of psychopaths called Schwarz, enough for loyalty and perhaps friendship to develop.

Nagi saw Crawford as a leader and someone to respect. It was Crawford who picked him from the dumps and colely raised him when no one even gave a damn. Schuldich smirked cynically to himself. He wondered if Crawford resembled anything like a father to the boy. Maybe that had been why Nagi returned to them even though Crawford abandoned him to his own devices with the bunny girl when the building crashed down on them. Maybe Crawford knew he would return, who could tell?

Crawford the unfeeling bastard had gained trust and authority among the four. He was ruthlessness that no longer extended to his own team members. Like a guardian who led but did not dominate.

Schuldich paused in his thoughts. Cut that out. That guardian has two horns.

Farfarello was the latest to join them. The madman had gained semblance of sanity from the time when they first met to now. At least he recognized his own teammates. Farfarello followed orders, and killed with rapture, no questions asked. He had more tolerance with the German than the other two.

~He's only pretending to bear with you.~ Crawford's voice spoke to him.

~You know, I never keep this link up for you to eavesdrop,~ the redhead replied lazily, even though he did not mind the intrusion at all. Schwarz had shared little privacy ever since the link went up. Thoughts leaked out more often than not, unless the owner of the mind chose to guard. Crawford did, most of the time.

~I heard my name, and the natural instinct is to reply,~ Crawford reasoned, all serious.

~You must really be bored, huh? To lower yourself to speak with me,~ Schuldich mocked in amusement.

~I'm waiting, but I'm not bored.~

~And so am I, Crawford, so am I…~

The door was flung open, and hit the wall with a loud crash. Schuldich muttered something rude then rolled over onto his front to glare the intruder full in the face. "Someone is trying to get rest here, Farfarello love."

The one golden eye scanned the room slowly, passing over Schuldich's annoyed look easily. Then he padded in slowly, still looking around. Schuldich rolled back to his original position, grunting in discontentment. Farfarello ignored him, possibly not having even heard the reprimand.

It was only after a few minutes of shuffling about that Farfarello stopped in front of Schuldich. The redhead glared up. Farfarello gazed down.

It continued for a few minutes.

"What do you want?" Schuldich finally asked, knowing his eyes would long tire out before Farfarello's. And knowing from experiences, the madman would not know he was supposed to talk unless prompted to.

"Give me a knife."

"Nagi said he already gave you one. The nice long retractable one, so shoo," Schuldich gave him a dismissive wave.

"The Angels touched it."

There was a pause, after which Schuldich sat up with a sigh. "Give it to me." He held out his hand, demanding the faulty weapon. He had long learned to decode his teammate's words. Whatever was spoilt, the Angels were always at fault. "Well?" Schuldich asked when the Irishman did not move.

Farfarello appeared to give his words some thought before replying slowly, "What the Angels rest their filthy fingers on, I will not."

Schuldich took back his hand, and buried his face in it, muttering something incoherent.

"I think you were asking for this," a soft voice said.

Something cold tapped Schuldich's arm, and the redhead reached out with his free hand without looking. He let out a breath into his palm, then set about opening up the handle of the blade/spike that Farfarello favored but was willing to give up because there had been Godly influence on it.

Nagi approached the two from where he had been leaning on the doorframe. He sat down on the couch beside Schuldich, hands between his knees and looking upon the ground, not saying a word. Farfarello watched Schuldich work with an intense gaze, and made no move to sit down himself.

"What's wrong?" Schuldich asked, not really caring one way or another.

Nagi kept silent, thoughtful. "Schuldich…"

"Hm?" the redhead replied distractedly, pushing at the button that was supposed to release the spike from the handle.

"Where do you think we'll be after this?"

Schuldich paused for a moment. "That's for our almighty leader to answer, don't ask the ignorant telepath."

"You know he won't tell me."

"He probably hasn't seen that far yet," Schuldich answered dryly, experimentally pulling the spike out.

"Can you look?" Nagi asked, still not looking up.

"Nope," Schuldich replied lightly. "His head is fucked, that guy."

There was silence next as Schuldich put the blade back together, and threw it at the watching Farfarello. "There, no more Angels or whatnot. I killed them."

Farfarello picked up his weapon from where it had dropped onto the carpeted floor, having been reluctant to catch it before. He cocked his head, looking at it in consideration, before padding away to the opposite couch with the handle gripped tightly in his scarred hands.

"Ch', no words of thanks?" Schuldich leaned back into the soft white leather.

"…Do you think… after this… we'll still be together?" Nagi's voice sounded, the lack of its usual confidence obvious and loud.

Schuldich closed his eyes. ~Who else in the world do we have?~ He opened his eyes a crack, and glanced over at Nagi, who was looking carefully at him. ~We are together now because we can go to no one else, and we'll be together tomorrow for the same reason. What the hell are you worrying for?~

Nagi did not speak until a few minutes later, when Schuldich had gone into a sleepy haze. ~I don't know… I have a bad feeling about tonight… then I realize that I don't want to be alone anymore.~

---

Crawford stepped into the lounge. Schuldich was asleep, and Farfarello was driving his blade into a cushion. Only Nagi looked up when he sat down on the far end of Farfarello's couch. He gestured to the sleeping German.

Nagi nodded, then shook Schuldich by the shoulder, getting a muffled grumble in return. It took a few more tries before he could be forced into opening his eyes, and when he did, the first person he fixed his glare on was Crawford, then Nagi. "If I get dark rings, the first minds I scramble will be yours." One big scowl to go with it.

Nagi resumed his original position, gazing straight forward expressionlessly at Crawford. Farfarello pushed his cushion away. The spike went through the wooden table between the four men.

The clock ticked away.

Crawford nodded. "Schuldich."

The German smirked.

---

Four pairs of feet made no sound as they walked down the carpeted floor. They stopped in front of two heavy wooden doors, the silence that fell punctuating their arrival. No one tried to stop them. The guards that were posted lay dead on the floor, necks twisted without any signs of weapons used. Crawford stepped over them calmly, and opened the doors in a smooth motion.

Heads turned towards them.

Fear. So much of it.

Schuldich closed his eyes, soaking every bit of emotion that he could catch. They were so strong, rippling through his mind in waves. amid the noise of their silent screams were traces of confusion, apprehension, dread, fear, fear and more fear. There were no questions to why they appeared at one of highest meetings unbidden. Schuldich snorted quietly. They should have realized before they tried forcing them back to a leash again.

"Craw… Crawford!" the man sitting at the head of the table stuttered, the one word seeming to have taken everything out of him.

"At your service." The clairvoyant drew a gun out of his jacket.

No one moved. No one dared to move. Schuldich heard the screams inside their heads, smirked as they trembled, trying to swallow and not choke on terror. Beside him, Farfarello's blade shot out with a crisp sound of metal, stretched to its longest. He brought the sharp spike to his mouth, and ran his tongue over it lovingly. Nagi ran his eyes over them in disinterest, like how one would spare a bug a look before stepping on it. The sheep for slaughter sat paralyzed in their seats around the long table.

"You should never try to tame the wild. Learn from the mistakes of others, because your predecessors have tried and failed in their death," Crawford said, his voice cutting through the think tension, so final it seemed to echo. He cocked his gun.

~I thought you dogs would at least tried to hide when the old fools died,~ Schuldich laughed into their minds. ~But no, of course you didn't know we did it. You just had to get us under your control, don't you? Greedy, ignorant humans…~

The silence resumed totally after his words, then the leader let loose a repressed scream, and whipped out a gun, leveling it at Crawford.

A shot fired.

The man crumpled into his chairman's seat before the echoes died off.

Panic broke. Upon the first scream, Crawford smiled, and stepped back. "I haven't even collected my paycheck yet."

Schuldich stepped forth replacing his leader, even as a man trying to charge him slammed into an invisible wall. "Tsk tsk… why so impatient…?"

He mock-winced, as a wail sounded from his left. "And we haven't even moved yet."

A window was thrown open, and a man in tie scrambled to get on the windowsills, yelling out into the night air for help. Schuldich frowned, his ears and mind throbbing. "Countdown to firing," he sang, as the thoughts started collecting in his head, swirling and overlapping each other. He needed enough to kill every one of the pigs in the slaughterhouse – the fools did not even know that they were feeding their own death.

"Ten."

Farfarello charged, his battle cry ringing over the cacophony. The old man he pounced on collapsed onto the ground and trembled at the feral fire of insanity in the single golden eye, throat rasping but unable to produce any other sounds.

"Nine."

Nagi stepped forward. The noise was already overwhelming, too painful for the ears to bear. Nagi frowned delicately, then lifted his hand.

"Eight."

Crawford's evil smile widened in victory, even as an untimely vision flooded his head and the reality faded out. In that one second, the future twisted itself, and changed.

"Schuldich, look out!" Crawford called sharply to the telepath, even as he reached out for the redhead. Schuldich could not hear him.

"Zero," Schuldich whispered. "Bang."

Red hot blinding pain flared. Schuldich's scream tore into the night, even as the howls of others died instantly, as if to accommodate his solitary voice. A gun fell onto the ground, the owner collapsed, blood running from his eyes and down his face. The remnants of the gunshot reverberated in the wake of the telepath's cry.

~Schuldich!~ Nagi fell on his knees beside his teammate. His eyes went to the wound on his arm, careful not to touch the mess of blood and flesh. The green cloth of his jacket was soaked in red, contrasting painfully. He tapped the redhead's face, but got no response.

Crawford joined Nagi by Schuldich's side, and knelt down. Farfarello stood watching.

"It's not enough to knock him out," was Crawford's plain statement, as he examined the hole in Schuldich's upper arm. The rage in his voice was barely concealed. Anger at himself, anger for his miscalculation. It hurt his pride to make such a foolish mistake.

"What happened?" Nagi asked, flipping the German carefully so he laid on his back.

"The shot must have distracted him. It hit him when he was firing the whole load of thoughts," Crawford's lips thinned. And they backfired to hit him twice as hard.

"Bring him along. We're leaving," he bit out, then turned and strode out of the bloodied room.

Author's notes:

My first Weiss Kreuz fic, but not my first try. I started another one first, but decided to make this my debut, because the other one will be long, and I will only post the first chapter when I'm ready to continue. I'm very happy writing this, and glad, because fic writing has become more of a chore for me lately. Pardon the twisted characterization, but the fics have too much of an influence on me, sorry. This chapter focuses more on showing the relationship between the members of Schwarz than anything, so it's rather boring… I promise everything will get better. Schuldich still has his memory to lose.

Dedicated to Ray-chan. If you're reading this, then I hope you'll come back, please.

The original title, Faded Waters, is provided by Shizuyu of the Hentai Gumi, modified by saturn.

This fic is inspired by the great work of Mami-sama, Temporary Peace. Thanks a lot to her for writing it, and for letting me use the idea *sighs happily*.i promise I will not follow her plot, I'm just using the idea of amnesia.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Original plot and characters are properties of the creator and distributors of Weiss Kreuz and are copyrighted to their respective owners. Author of this work claims no ownership, part or whole, of the original plot and characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction and all other relevant chapters and work, both text and non-text, are created for sole purpose of entertainment. Work is absolutely a non-commercial creation and no profits are made from the production, maintenance or display.

Faded Obsidian is an original piece of fan work copyrighted to saturn de wicked. No part of this work is to be reproduced or adapted in any way without the author's permission.


	2. then, it finds more than it bargained fo...

Faded Obsidian

Faded Obsidian

By saturn de wicked

Chapter Two

**then, it finds more than it bargained for**

It rained heavy that night. Crawford could feel the raindrops tapping on the car, easing the silence that was louder than usual. He was a man who knew how to appreciate peace and quiet when it came by, but this was not the same, because the person who was supposed to initiate words was unconscious and bleeding in the backseat. Crawford had never counted on the other two for excessive speech, but he could not remember any recent times when the cessation of voices had been this awkward.

The rain pattered on. It was something new for Schwarz, who was used to and comfortable with silence.

Crawford's lips thinned. Or maybe it was because he was practically radiating anger, he thought. It did not show on his face. It never showed on his face, but his teammates knew, like how they always did.

So they drove on, accompanied by the squeaking of the windscreen wiper and the pattering rain. The roads were not crowded even though it was the commercial area. It was, after all, two hours past midnight.

"Where are we going?" Nagi asked when they stopped at a traffic junction.

"A hotel," Crawford replied flatly. "I'll make arrangements to go back to the headquarters later." He congratulated himself for not snapping, because he felt the unexplainable urge to do so. It was strange, not to be able to hear random thoughts of his teammates constantly whispering softly into his mind; that had almost become something he had taken for granted and he rarely blocked them out.

"Another hotel…" There was a tired note to Nagi's voice even though his face and eyes betrayed no inner emotions. Crawford could tell the boy wanted to go back to their apartment, the small house they professionally addressed as their headquarters. The place was special to them somehow, and each of them knew it. It had been empty since they last left it, which was about three months ago when they joined in Estet's preparations for the almighty ritual.

Crawford glanced at Nagi through the rearview mirror, and his eyes inadvertently caught the unconscious Schuldich. The German was propped in a sitting position between Nagi and Farfarello, so that he had a cushion on both sides if he fell.

Nagi fingered the makeshift bandage he did for Schuldich using the German's sleeves. He frowned. The blood had already seeped through the thick material. "What are we going to do about Schuldich?"

"For the physical injuries, we are going to get the bullet out of him first," came the unwavering reply.

"I don't mean that," Nagi murmured, pushing Schuldich's wild hair away from his face. He looked deathly pale compared to his locks of ridiculously bright hair.

"We'll see what we can do when we get to that point."

Nagi nodded. He had never been very friendly with the German, but perhaps was the closest with him out of the rest of Schwarz. He was the only one Nagi could talk to when there was really nothing else better to do, which was scarce. He rarely talked with Crawford, unless the topic involved the future and development of Schwarz – Nagi seemed to be the only one intelligent enough for this subject. But conversation with Crawford lacked the emotions that always surfaced involuntarily when the partner was Schuldich. Farfarello did not oblige to speak often. He was generally quieter than Nagi, which was saying a lot, unless he had someone to torture. The Irishman conversed more easily with Schuldich. But then, so did everyone, even Crawford.

Nagi grimaced in his head. The German's lack of presence was starting to stand out already, especially with the possibility that he may never come back to them. Nagi wondered if he would miss Schuldich if he died. Probably not, he thought cynically. Peace never went where the redhead chose to go.

He took another look at his unconscious teammate, glad no one could hear his thoughts now. He hesitated a little before ripping off his right sleeve. With as much care as he could muster in a moving car, he removed Schuldich's damp crude bandage and redid it again. Schuldich did not even twitch. Nagi frowned lightly and fingered his pulse. "Crawford…" he said softly. "I think we need to go faster."

Farfarello looked up from his blade. The telepath was leaning slightly against him. The one golden eye focused intensely on Schuldich's face, so serene one would have thought he was only sleeping. "He won't die that easily," he said, even as a slow knowing smile made its way across his face.

But Crawford increased his speed as he drove on.

---

The sleek black Porsche pulled up in front of the hotel. Nagi stepped out as the bellboy opened the door. He glanced back at Crawford who was undoing his seatbelt. The American calmly tipped the bellboy for his service and motioned for Farfarello to carry Schuldich out, like carting unconscious and bleeding men was natural and generally accepted into everyday life.

If the security guards posted at the grand entrance of the hotel were about to say something, they quickly bit back their words at Crawford's cool gaze. He turned back to Farfarello, who had an arm under the German's knees and another one supporting his back. A commanding nod from Crawford, and Schwarz entered the cool air of the hotel lobby.

Heads turned at their entrance. Curious eyes assessed the four but did not linger to stare. It was, after all, healthy to mind one's own business. People whispered and stole glances at the blood on the unconscious man that seemed to compliment his hair; people felt chills go down their spines at the numerous glaring scars and the white hair that screamed betrayal; but no one, as it was throughout the whole history of Schwarz, did anything to attract unwanted attention. Such was the core of humanity.

Crawford made straight for the elevator with Farfarello while Nagi wordlessly detoured to the receptionist to confirm their room reservation.

The red number decreased slowly from ten, to nine, to eight… Crawford gave Schuldich a quick glance. The German looked practically ashen under the pale light of the lobby. He was not distressed over the physical injuries, even though the newly replaced bandage was already showing signs of redness. The ominous fact was that Schuldich mind was not sending out any signs of life at all.

"If he is to die…" Farfarello rasped out softly, as the elevator doors slid open quietly and they stepped in, "Will he see Him…?" He laughed in response to his own question. "Black, black sheep… will he see the Lord…?"

"He won't die," Crawford replied simply, even as his teeth clenched. It would be another deep gash in his pride and reputation if he allowed his own teammate to die from his mistake. A gash over the recent gash that was the mistake.

The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out, Farfarello carelessly banging Schuldich's legs against the metal doorframe. Their suite was at the end of the corridor, and the door opened just as Crawford reached it. Nagi caught up with them.

They wasted no time admiring their lodgings like how the previous inhabitants had. Farfarello dumped his load on the couch as soon as he got in, then stood at the head, watching Crawford kneel down beside Schuldich and put him in a more comfortable position. The door closed softly as Nagi joined them beside Schuldich. Crawford put Schuldich's injured arm out.

"Nagi, boil some water, get me a clean cloth."

---

It was a grim trio that sat down at the table to have their breakfast. Crawford had managed to dislodge the bullet from Schuldich's shoulders more or less successfully, since the bullet had not been embedded deep. He had training in the medical field somewhere along his path in becoming the leader of Schwarz, but the knowledge had been rarely put into use -- it was Nagi who usually treated their wounds, not that there were many. This time, the tools he employed were basic – he managed with the hotel first aid kit and a crude set of knives Farfarello always carried about with him. Sterilized beforehand, of course.

Crawford was the only one touching the food, eating as impassively as always. It was nearly dawn, around 4 am. Schuldich's minor operation had taken him two hours to complete. There was a kitchen in the suite but Nagi was not up to cooking, from the looks of it. They had nothing for him to start cooking with anyway. Crawford was not hungry, but breakfast was part of routine, and Crawford rarely broke routine. They called for room service.

Nagi sat beside him at the round table, staring into space. His oyako-don getting cold in front of him. Farfarello sat across from him, playing with his rice, slicing them one by one into halves with a fine blade. The silence was perfectly intact. Broken time to time by the soft clattering of cutlery.

Schuldich was resting, having yet to move a finger from his initial position. Crawford was not expecting him to recover that fast, but he had not thought that Nagi would be so deeply affected by it. Usually the boy left the rest alone and did not worry about them unless they worried him first. Which only applied to Schuldich. Farfarello did not seem any more perturbed than the normal.

"Nagi," Crawford said with a hard edge to his voice, as he finished and set his plate aside.

The boy looked up at him questioningly, breaking away from his thoughts.

"Your breakfast," Crawford stated, pointing vaguely to the untouched rice. It was not exactly breakfast, but it was after all, morning (albeit the 4am kind).

Nagi nodded quietly, then picked up his chopsticks and started eating without another word. Crawford sat watching him, not for the first time asking himself if diligence at following orders was good for the boy. Nagi rarely defied him, never mind if it concerned such a minor thing as his own diet and table manners. His obedience had been one of the reasons why Crawford was incensed when the telekinetic disregarded his orders and went after Tot, the silly Schrient doll.

Nagi finished his meal in a few minutes and pushed his bowl away. He leaned back to resume his original position.

Farfarello stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back so that it scraped loudly against the marble floor. Then he stalked away towards one of the rooms and the door closed. Crawford raised an eyebrow. So… it even got to him…

"Crawford…" Nagi spoke up hesitatingly.

Crawford turned his eyes towards him.

"What can you See?" Nagi asked softly, looking down at the edge of the table.

"Schuldich will wake up," Crawford replied shortly, studying the boy's rare display of uncertainty in mild interest. "Nothing else."

Nagi nodded slowly, then let out a small sigh. "Goodnight, Crawford," he whispered before getting up and retreating to the room he had silently agreed to share with Farfarello. Crawford nodded in acknowledgement.

"Nagi?"

Nagi paused and turned. "Yes?"

"Don't think about it."

Nagi nodded. The lights flicked on as he closed the door. A light frame leaned against it, feeling drained. Things had gone wrong. Schuldich was not supposed to be beaten… Schuldich was ruled by no one but Crawford… Schuldich was never supposed to go down like one of the crawling masses of expendables that made up the society…

Nagi chuckled softly, mocking his own ridiculous sentimentality.

"…Do you think… after this… we'll still be together?"

Farfarello sat on one of the two beds staring at him. "Think some more and you'll go insane like me." He chuckled softly. "He won't die."

Nagi smiled bitterly. "Crawford already told me that."

Only three people in the gods be damned universe gave a shit about him… There was nothing he owned in the world besides Schwarz and his power. One small part of his mind told him that he did not want to lose them too.

~We are together now because we can go to no one else, and we'll be together tomorrow for the same reason. What the hell are you worrying for?~

Guess my hunch's right after all, Schuldich. You've only got to wake up to prove me wrong… Nagi undressed and fell onto his bed immediately, the softness of it welcomed. He flicked off the lights and curled up on the sheets. The door shut softly by itself, as Nagi did his best to drift off to sleep.

---

Crawford moved Schuldich into their room just as dawn broke. The redhead laid on the bed on his back, the white sheets drawn up to his chest. His torn jacket and top had been taken off. He looked like he was merely sleeping… he looked so much like he was sleeping…

Crawford sat himself down in an armchair beside the king-sized bed, massaging his temples tiredly, something he would never do in front of others.

Schuldich will laugh at you when he wakes up… he told himself dryly. Imagine the great leader, his powers failing him… Disgraceful.

His eyes locked on the pale face of the telepath. Crawford had slammed his mental barriers up, for reasons unknown to himself. He was wary; the vision he got did not reflect the normalcy he had hoped for. He had Seen himself arguing with Schuldich, him angry, and Schuldich… different. Familiar, yet different.

He had meant to stay up until morning, when he could order one of the others to take over his watch, but slowly, his consciousness began to fade, and soon, he was asleep.

---

Jade eyes slowly opened. The owner winced at once at the sunlight streaming in and squeezed his eyes shut. His head _hurt_, dammit. Biting back a low moan, he rolled over and tried to bury his head under his pillow. Weird, it felt softer than usual. It was a welcomed change, though.

He hid in the darkness his pillow provided for a few minutes, swaying between awareness and sleep, before it became too stuffy to breathe. His brain throbbed painfully in the small cavity of his skull that felt all too small at that moment. It was like his head was expanding and contracting in rhythm… Schuldich groaned again. Talk about hangovers…

Slowly, he peeled away the pillow covering his head, and his lungs took in fresh cool air. He remained in that position for a few moments, savoring his very comfortable position. Weird… his bed smelt different – fresher than it should. Schuldich frowned, his left hand going to pat the space beside him. It was empty and cold.

Surprised, his eyes flew opened. The light was piercingly bright, and he regretted his action even as his mouth let loose a string of swearing. His right arm burned, one searing spot on fire… painful… Jaws clenched, and he opened his eyes a small slit, just enough to see the snow white bandage. What the hell!! Schuldich squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to sit, propping his slender frame up with his other arm. He hissed. The movement aggravated his seemingly injured arm. Pain flared again. Fuck, make that seriously injured.

The redhead abandoned his discomfort for the moment, and looked around, the light still stinging to his eyes. He tensed, when he found the surroundings not even vaguely familiar. Where… am I? His eyes took in the clean sheets and the expensive looking furniture, as well as the much larger size of the bedroom.

His eyes closed, frowning in concentration as he tried to remember where he was before this…

The door opened.

Schuldich sat straight up, grinding his teeth as the hammer pounded on his head an extra loud beat. Someone in dress shirt and long pants stepped in, closing the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the German.

Schuldich froze, for one moment the fear seizing his heart. Then he saw who it was and relaxed visibly.

"Schuldich," Crawford addressed, holding the redhead in a sharp gaze. He did not show his caution, but the barrier in his mind was up, to block his thoughts from going to the redhead. It was something he had not done for quite a few years. "How bad do you feel?"

Schuldich lifted a hand to his forehead to repress the headache, and bit back a groan. Confusion replaced the previous panic. He steadied his voice and asked softly, "Where am I…?"

It was not cold, but he wanted warmth. He wanted to know where he was and what had happened to him. Schuldich slowly disentangled his legs from the sheets and stood up unsteadily, half stumbling. When he was sure he would not fall, he approached Crawford slowly, his hands rubbing his eyes.

Crawford watched his teammate's progress, feeling a weight go off his shoulders when he saw that Schuldich was not hurt badly enough to be unable to walk. Wordlessly, he held out a hand for Schuldich to take.

But what come next surprised him.

Maybe the clairvoyant was not used to being surprised, because he went rigid.

Schuldich snaked his arms around his neck, and pulled him into a light kiss on the lips, mumbling groggily through his headache, "Where have you been, love? Where are we?"

For a moment, everything froze, as the warm lips touched his own. Then senses snapped, and Crawford shoved roughly at Schuldich. The German gasped, one hand going to clutch at his injured arm, even as he stumbled back a few steps. The American glowered at him, disgust and distaste evident in his eyes as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What do you think you're doing, Schuldich?" he demanded, arms tensing up. He controlled the urge to brandish his gun and blast the German's brains out.

The redhead gaped at him. After a moment, he choked out, "I should be asking you that."

The anger and humiliation in Crawford's thoughts dulled for a moment as he digested Schuldich's words. Schuldich had spoken in English. Schuldich never spoke English willingly.

Schuldich's arms started to tremble involuntarily and he hoped it was interpreted as anger rather than hurt. Everything felt wrong. Everything _was_ wrong. Schuldich masked the inner turmoil with rage. Oh damn right he was angry. His _lover_ for over a _year _had forgotten him, his _lover_ had shoved him away when he tried to hug him, and his _lover_ had to wipe his mouth after they brushed lips. Schuldich repressed the sick feeling rising in him and searched his own mind, trying to remember what had happened before he woke up in this shit hole.

A flash of something fuzzy… a short flash…

The hand went flying. A slap so painful, the feeling was numbed.

"So go! If I'm such a lousy fuck, go find a new one!"

"You know what? I think I will."

The memory was blurred, foggy, but the words stung. Schuldich's eyes lit up in realization. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

"What?" A light frown.

He had never prided his temper for being cool, even when dealing with his lover. Schuldich scowled. Then almost immediately, his features softened, and he cast his eyes down. Crawford tensed again, not knowing what to make of things for once. What he was sure of was that this person in front of him was not Schuldich. Schuldich did not look pensive. Schuldich did not show his emotions so openly. Schuldich did not dare to kiss him. Schuldich did _not_ kiss him.

"I didn't mean to scream at you yesterday, okay?" the redhead muttered, looking at the ground and raking a hand through his messy hair. This proved to be harder than he thought it would be. "But you slapped me."

"I slapped you," Crawford repeated. Uh-huh.

"Fuck you, asshole, I'm trying to apologize here," Schuldich snapped, looking like he was ready to hit the leader of Schwarz. "Don't even give me the clueless crap."

Crawford wondered in one small part of his mind whether he had given his teammate too many painkillers. There was a warning label that said not to consume more than three a day, so Crawford had shoved exactly three into the German's mouth all at once. He adjusted his glasses and reigned in a growl. "Schuldich… what's the last thing you remember?"

"Now you're trying to question me," the telepath spat. "First you tell me what's this fucking place you've brought me to." He was almost starting to get scared. Everything was _wrong_.

Crawford's nerves twitched, and his eyes narrowed. One just did not talk to him in this way and get away with it. His arm shot out and caught the telepath's hair, yanking the smooth face close to his. Schuldich let out a crude scream.

"Don't speak to me like this, Schuldich, because I won't care whether you're injured or not." He paused, voice dropping deliberately to barely a whisper. "I asked you what's the last thing you remember, and you will answer."

Schuldich stared at him, one hand clutching at his abused scalp. Brad…? Shock slowly turned to panic, and he touched his lover's mind gently. There was a void, and totally no response. Just one vast silence…

His blood ran cold.

"If you're trying my patience, you'll regret it," Crawford said softly, in a dead and deadly tone.

"Brad?" Wait… you're not him," Schuldich murmured as he took a step back, away from Crawford, wrenching his hair from the rough hands. "Who are you?"

---

Nagi woke to the noise in the next room. He slowly padded out into the lounge then across it to one of the two closed doors – Schuldich's room – where the noise was coming from. His ears caught the loud voice that could belong only to the German, before everything quieted down, leaving behind a welcomed but uneasy silence. ~Schuldich?~ Nagi called out mentally while keeping up as much of a mental barrier as he could. Crawford had told him to. There was no reply. The boy frowned, and tapped on the door as he approached. He would not normally have done Schuldich that courtesy, but it seemed that Crawford was with him too.

There was no response… Nagi slowly pushed open the door with his hand.

Schuldich almost looked frightened.

Nagi's sleepy mind snapped awake. He halted where he was. All he could see was Crawford's back and Schuldich. Schuldich, the confident smirking telepath, pressing against the far wall, almost, almost looking like a trapped animal. His palms were pressed flat against the white wall, eyes fixed on Crawford's face. Trapped and betrayed, his position said, his eyes emphasized.

Nagi paused, then backed out of the room, closing the door again and leaving the two alone. He was disinclined to interrupt.

---

Crawford let the vision pass fully before attempting to speak again.

But when it did, all he could find was a lack of words. His eyes tore themselves away from Schuldich's position. No, not Schuldich. I shouldn't have made this mistake.

His vision cleared all his questions for him, and his anger slowly dissipated, leaving behind not normalcy but a strange hollowness. Crawford almost could tell himself he felt defeated. But as it was, his lips thinned into a firm line and he sat himself down on the chair beside the single bed, legs crossed.

Schuldich's eyes followed his movements warily. Brad… this person looks so much like you. Where are you? Where am I? Where have you gone? Who is this bastard? Why is his head so empty? _Where are you_?

"Sit." It was not an invitation. It was a command. It was a command that left no room for questions.

But… Schuldich's eyes narrowed, trying to override confusion with other emotions. "Why should I?"

A gun barrel was leveled at his face. The stranger's familiar dark brown eyes bore into his own jade green ones, cold. His position was relaxed, sitting comfortably in the cushioned chair. It was like he was challenging, only that knew he would be nothing but the winner.

Schuldich clenched his teeth and moved to sit on the bed he had woken up in. He glared at the American, hating him for resembling Brad. Resembling, but not the same; no, it was not the same. Brad was not as tall, nor were his eyes as cold. Brad wouldn't point a gun at him, much less point and gun at him and look like he could shoot at wimp.

The man stared at him for few minutes, running his eyes over his body. Schuldich then realized he was not wearing a top. It would probably have felt less intimidating if there was any hints of sexual interest in the gaze, but the man for all the world looked like he was observing and memorizing parts of machinery. Schuldich held his silent anger, seething at being scrutinized, but could do nothing about it. The gun had gone down the moment he sat, but was still in the stranger's lap. He knows my name… he seems to know me as well… fuck this crap, what's happening?

Schuldich did not give the stranger the satisfaction of feeling him fidgeting, although he was itching to squirm. The guy must be carrying a disease. If only there was something besides impassiveness that he could find in those dead brown eyes… something that he could use to turn the tables. Schuldich did not appreciate his body being looked upon as if it was nothing more than stonework, but that was how this man was staring at him.

A few more minutes passed, and Schuldich was getting restless.

"Nagi," the Brad-lookalike said.

"What?" Schuldich frowned.

The door opened, but it was only after a few seconds that the boy walked in from the couch he was sitting on outside. Schuldich had caught sight of him from the corner of his eye when he first barged into the room a few minutes ago. In a small part of his mind, the German wondered how the door had opened if the boy had been so far away.

He wore something that looked like school uniform, but had one sleeve torn off. The face was closed off and detached. Schuldich flicked the boy a sharp glance, not feeling up to friendliness.

The boy reminded Schuldich of himself before Brad entered his life. The telepath warily probed at the newcomer's mind, but found a similar blank, as he had with the stranger's. He drew back quickly, like he had touched slime.

The boy turned straight to Crawford without so much as a glance at him. "You called, Crawford."

Crawford… Schuldich's eyes narrowed. Such a stick-in-the-ass name.

"Yes," the person called Crawford said flatly. A hand vaguely gestured towards him. "Our plans need to change. He's currently in the fourteen-year-old state of mind."

Author's notes:

Confusing? I know. Most of it will be cleared up in the next chapter. Meanwhile, thanks to Majokai Yukiko who pointed out to me that the ending of the last part was vague and confusing, so I've added a few lines to make it better (it's already updated). I read back, and found that it was totally disgusting, too rushed, and not deep enough, as my Gumi says. If I have the time, I'll rewrite the whole beginning again. I took three days to write this chapter, and around one week to edit *grunts in disgust* Schwarz is hard to write.

Thanks to all who have given me feedback of any kind.

Thanks to Truth for the enlightening talk. I'm striving to characterize Schwarz the way you have.

Dedicated to Ray-chan, always. Welcome back ^^

This fic is inspired by the great work of Mami-sama, Temporary Peace. Thanks a lot to her for writing it, and for letting me use the idea *sighs happily*. I promise I will not follow her plot, I'm just using the idea of amnesia.

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Original plot and characters are properties of the creator and distributors of Weiss Kreuz and are copyrighted to their respective owners. Author of this work claims no ownership, part or whole, of the original plot and characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction and all other relevant chapters and work, both text and non-text, are created for sole purpose of entertainment. Work is absolutely a non-commercial creation and no profits are made from the production, maintenance or display.

Faded Obsidian is an original piece of fan work copyrighted to saturn de wicked. No part of this work is to be reproduced or adapted in any way without the author's permission.


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